Myrcella Baratheon sat in the upscale bar of the Wintertown Hotel, finishing what had to be the best vanilla latte in the city. Most people came here for the celebrity sightings (it was a favorite of both Margyrey Tyrell and Ilyn Dane) or the incredible cocktails (Wildfire was a favorite of the downtown set) but not Myrcella. Of course, it helped that she was the only person who the bartender Barristan Selmy would make this for.

She set her mug down on the counter and slid out of her bar seat in one graceful motion. As she pulled on her trench coat she reached in her handbag for some money before she was interrupted by a rumbling voice, "You know your money's no good here, little doe."

"It's not fair if you never let me pay, Barristan"

"Well I'm the one who makes the lattes, I don't have to be fair."

She smirks at that, "Well then you'll have payment in full in the form of brownies the next time I come in."

The old man smiles. He'd never had children or grandchildren, but the little doe warmed his heart as if she were blood of his blood.

She waved goodbye at him before making for the door. She was almost there when a man a little older than her grabbed her arm gently and swung her around. Myrcella jumps back, skittish and nothing like the graceful girl who had glided across the lobby.

"Woah, Myrcella, woah" a deep Northern voice says.

Finding her strength and with recognition in her eyes she says seethingly, "I'm not a horse, Robb," but there is a smile hiding in her words.

The boy wants to tease her Well you sure spook like one but instead smiles and say, "No … I'm just sorry that I frightened you. I just couldn't believe it when I saw you it's been so…" but he can't finish his sentence. It had been years since he'd seen the beautiful blonde in front of him. She had only been a girl the last time, all green eyes, blonde curls and long limbs. She had always been sweet and graceful and quick of mind. And so incredibly innocent, but then, they all were.

She looks around awkwardly, unable to meet his gaze. Polite as ever she says, "It was lovely to run into you Robb, but I've got to get back to the gallery. Tell Sansa I said hello!"

And with that she walks out of the bar without a glance back in his direction. He knows this because he doesn't turn away until she's disappeared.

Barristan has seen he whole thing, he's used to men taking notice of Myrcella. Whether she comes in to read in the morning, dressed in oversized wools, or whether she comes in after work, beautiful and polished, she always turns men's heads. The man, more a boy really, comes to the bar and orders a pint.

"Excuse me, Sir, do you happen to know that girl?"

"I do…it seems you do as well."

"Aye, but she was a half a foot shorter the last time I saw her. She mentioned a gallery… she always did love pictures… do you know which one?"

"Listen, boy. That girl is the sweetest thing in this world and she's had more trouble than most of it too. I won't be sending more her way."

"I wouldn't wish more trouble on that girl if my life depended on it. You may not know me, but I'd wager you'd know who my father was, and he was her father's best friend. They are both gone now, at least let me do right by them and make sure that she is safe and happy."

Barristan eyed the boy. He was wrong about one thing, he knew exactly who he was. The young wolf. Robb Stark. But he was right, he had known his father, a good and honest man who would have raised his son right.

"She works at Mereen Gallery, it's around the corner on Hightower Lane."

"Thank you." He throws money on the table and leaves, his untouched pint resting on the counter.

Robb wants to go there immediately but he doesn't. Instead he gets in his car and drives to his office. Once inside, he looks up the Mereen Gallery and sees that they are having an opening the next night.

Myrcella gets back to the gallery still shaking from her encounter. She felt so foolish being so shaken even after all of these years. She felt especially so being so weak in front of Robb. Robb who had always been kind to her. Who had always been gentle with his sisters, Sansa and Arya (even if Arya tested him). Who she hadn't seen in so long but had thought of so frequently during their time apart. It would have been impossible not to, with everything that happened.

Thankfully when she walked into the gallery it was in utter disarray. Workmen were hastly drilling holes and touching up paint, hanging the 40 works throughout the winding gallery.

"Okay, gentlemen. Here is how this is going to go."

They all turned to look at her, ready to follow her every instruction. Myrcella smiled. She was always good during a crisis, it was afterwards that was the problem.

The following night Robb paid way too much attention to his appearance. It was something he hadn't done in some time, it hadn't seemed important. But now, his beard was freshly trimmed, and he was wearing a bespoke dark gray suit, his steel cufflinks in the shape of wolves. Despite the fact that his father had left him a great deal of money, and the family business he ran had become an international success, Robb was always more comfortable in simple clothing. Thankfully his sister Sansa didn't share this feeling and had forced him on a shopping spree before his last business trip to the Vale.

Robb pulled up outside the gallery to find it overflowing with people, young and old. He smirked to himself when he saw the sea of black clothing outfitting the downtown set, his cousin Jon would have fit right in. Champagne and craft beer is being passed on trays, Robb grabs himself a bottle of The Crow. Taking a sip, his eyes scan the crowd, barely noticing the oversized abstract canvases adorning the walls. As he walks into the second room he finally sees her.

This girl could stand out anywhere he thought to himself. While everyone around them was dressed in dark, complicated clothing, Myrcella was wearing a simple sleeveless light pink dress. It hugged her curves but was not too tight like so many things he saw his sisters wearing these days. While every other girl in here had contoured her face (he seriously had to stop hanging out with Sansa) and gone heavy on the eyeliner, Myrcella was apparently barefaced, her loose blonde curls and pink cheeks the same as when she was a child.

This time he approached her cautiously, as she finishes up a conversation with an older gentleman. "Myrcella?"

She turns to him smiling this time, "Robb! I'm so pleased you could make it."

"Barristan told me where you worked, I hope this is alright."

"I'm impressed you got by him," she giggles, "he can be a piece of work."

He looks at her earnestly, "He isn't so bad, he just loves you."

She isn't sure if she blushes at his words or his gaze, it takes a lot to melt the icy blue of his eyes. Ever the lady she takes his arm and starts escorting him around the show.

"So, what do you think?"

"This is incredible, Myrcella. Is this your gallery?"

"No it's my friend Jeyne's , but her mother is sick so she's gone home for the rest of summer to take care of her. I'm manning the gallery in her absence."

He gestures to the people spilling out of every corner, "Well I think you are doing a pretty good job."

She blushes again, the prettiest sight he had seen in a long while. "It's the first exhibition that I've planned, how do you like the pieces?"

Robb looks around at the art for the first time, a myriad of colors splashed in every direction, he grimaces as he tries to find something clever to say and finally lands on, "I don't think I'm smart enough for them."

She giggles and says "Nonsense. These are just too colorful for you." She takes his arm again, "Here, let me show you one that I know you'll like."

She takes him back through several other rooms before she comes to one that is semi-enclosed. Unlike the other rooms the walls are painted a blue so dark it is almost black. Where the other rooms had multiple canvases on each wall, this one had one in the entire room. It was a dance of browns and greys and blacks and blues, whirling together in a seemingly vicious storm, somehow both erratic and precise.

"I…this is…"

She smiles gently. "It's called a warrior's heart. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. I asked the artist what he thought about when he painted and he told me a story. Would you like to hear it?"

Robb looked at her and nodded eagerly.

"Once, during the War of the Five I was separated from my group after the Battle of the Green. I came through a clearing to the stream, desperate to get the blood of the other men off me. There I found a boy. He was a boy who sat in a man's chair and had a man's worry. He was a boy who loved his parents, and his siblings, and his home. A boy who valued peace so much, that only honor could drive him away from it. And even though I was only a boy myself, I mourned for him, and I pray for him still, the boy who had grown old too young."

When Myrcella finished her story there were tears in her eyes. Robb's voice was gruff when he asked, "Who is the artist?"

"Gendry Waters."

When she said the name, saw the recognition in his face, even the slight smirk that arrived, she knew that she had been right all along. She could see the storm from the canvas in his eyes.

"I'll take it" he said, to her surprise.

She clapped her hands, the tears forgotten, "Oh Robb, really? It's my first sale. I'm so happy you'll have it!" and before she can think better of it she stands on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.

This time it is he that blushes. He goes to say something else to her, but before he can, a young leggy brunette comes over to her and says "Marcie, there's someone up front asking about the import tax and I never know what to say."

Myrcella smiles and rolls her eyes fondly, "Oh Ly, I'll be up there in a minute."

She turns to make her apologies to Robb but he says, "Go, go. I'll find you later." Then he smirks, "I promise I'm good for the money, Ellie." She grins at the nickname he had chosen for her as a child.

She looks him in the eye then looks meaningfully at the painting, then back at him, "You're good for a great many things, Lupe. You always were." And with that she squeezes his wrist gently and walks away.

He realizes afterwards that he probably should have asked how much the painting cost but it didn't matter. He could and would pay anything for it. He couldn't believe that Gendry had remembered their conversation after all those years and that he had somehow found his way to Ellie after all. He wondered if she knew yet how connected they truly were, something told him she didn't.

He made his way back through the gallery, trying to look at the other paintings, smiling and shaking hands when he saw people he knew from work, or from the war. But all the while he watched her.

She was good, so good in fact, that he bet that nobody else saw how she always approached them, always laid a hand on theirs, always slightly invaded their space. To anyone else she was just a gracious, engaged, beauty full of life and warmth. But Robb had seen Sansa play the same game, had seen her more comfortable with Grey Wind and Ghost than she ever was with him and Jon. Had had to carry her out of nightclubs when she had gotten drunk just to see if she would still be afraid. He knew what Myrcella was doing, because she was still living with the same scars as Sansa, she had even received them from the same monster.

Myrcella mingled happily amongst her guests, but every so often her eyes would go back to the beautiful sad boy in the grey suit. He was always close by, without ever crowding her, and she smiled as she remembered his wolf acting as her shadow years before.

Once she had made her rounds, she went to find him again. He was standing in front of a small canvas, the smallest in the whole exhibition. Unlike the others, Robb did not think it was abstract, but all the same he couldn't quite figure out what it was."

"I'll have to tell Gendry that he has an admirer."

He smiles at her, "I have to admit I do find his work intriguing."

"That one is my favorite, it is so bare but so incredibly full."

Robb looks at her with a puzzled expression, "I think you're making me smarter, Ellie."

He expects her to giggle, was hoping for it really. Instead she keeps her eyes on the drawing and shakes her head, "I'm just well educated in things of little consequence. You're wise about the things that count."

He looks at her and sees how shamed she is by this truth that she thinks she knows. "That's not true Ellie. You are as clever as you are pretty. You just are doing what we all should be now, you are focusing on the things that make you happy. I'd happily be less educated in things of consequence as you call them."

"I hate to say it, Lupe, but you've earned your degree." She says then to lighten the mood she had created.

His mouth crinkles up in the half smile she saw so often as a girl. "Yes, yes, I'm graduating with honors, it's no big deal."

He finally gets his giggle and he has to fight the urge not to brush the hair from her eyes. But Robb watched Sansa through her recovery, and even now he knows not to approach her from behind. So he leaves his hands at his sides.

"Ellie… would you like to come to Winterfell this weekend? I know everyone would love to see you."

Myrcella gives him a look that insinuates everyone? "Oh come on, it'll just be me, Sansa, Bran and Jon."

She bides her time, "I thought you would live in the city…didn't I see some article about your new penthouse downtown?"

It's his time to roll his eyes…why did he ever let his uncle Edmure talk him into that interview?

"Yes, I have a place in the city, but we all decided to keep Winterfell after… we uh… go there on weekends and holidays. It's home." He meets her eyes on the last word and sees in her the longing he had so often felt in himself.

"Absolutely…I'd love that Robb."

He smiles and before she can change her mind he takes her hand slowly, letting her watch his intentions so that she isn't frightened and squeezes her palm gently. He can feel the tense muscles relax under his touch and his jaw twitches.

"I'll pick you up from here on Friday evening, we'll return Sunday."

Before she can ask you meant the whole weekend?

He is walking out the door, only turning once to say "Remember to bring a coat, after all, winter is coming." And walks out, her laughter ringing behind.